


Failed to Protect

by aquamanisnotuseless



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dorian Is Trying Really Hard Guys, Dragon Age Quest: Protect Clan Lavellan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Dont Know How To Comfort Crying Men- a novel by Dorian Pavus, Leading is scary, M/M, failure to protect clan lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamanisnotuseless/pseuds/aquamanisnotuseless
Summary: The inquisitor refused to meet his eyes.It’s a shame really, they’re lovely eyes. But that’s not what was bothersome. There was almost a ritual before they kissed. Remi would look at him (How could he not? Dorian’s gorgeous), cup his face with his palms, and allow a few seconds to pass. It’s such a small thing. It shouldn’t matter. And yet…And yet.





	Failed to Protect

**Author's Note:**

> what uP heres grown men crying

Dorian thought he had handled the conversation well, considering his lack of experience. 

 

There was a terrifying moment when he had leaned his mouth to the inquisitor's ear when he realized that Remi was stiff as a board, his breath halted. Shit. Okay. Misread situation. He can deal with this. 

 

But when the inquisitor asked to slow things down— which he at first took as the elf politely refusing him— he was even more confused. Him not interested in men? Dorian misreading banter as flirtation? Ah, that would be too easy! The inquisitor, bless him, inquired about pursuing a relationship.

 

_ A relationship. _

 

How does one even go about  _ having _ one of those?

 

They’ve had few conversations after that night only a few days ago, but Dorian quickly learned that Remi’s thoughts of sex differed quite a bit to what he was used to. He had confided in Dorian that it wasn’t a matter of chastity or a lack of desire, he was simply uncomfortable and slightly terrified of moving quickly with anyone. 

 

Which is why Dorian was once again absolutely flabbergasted by his sharp change in behavior currently, less than two weeks after this supposedly serious conversation. As of now, there was an incredibly enthusiastic elf currently attempting to undo one of the many buckles on his shirt. After his shaking hands wouldn’t allow him to accomplish removing it in a sensible way for clothing as nice as his own, he resorted to tugging in an effort to tear it. All the while he gave hurried and imprecise kisses along Dorian’s exposed neck. This normally would be far from a problem, except something was off. 

 

The inquisitor refused to meet his eyes. 

 

It’s a shame really, they’re lovely eyes. But that’s not what was bothersome. There was almost a ritual before they kissed. Remi would look at him (How could he not? Dorian’s gorgeous), cup his face with his palms, and allow a few seconds to pass. It’s such a small thing. It shouldn’t matter. And yet…

 

And yet. 

 

_ Fasta vas _ why did this matter to him? Is he really this vain? (Has he really fallen this hard into the role of being in a relationship?) Two weeks ago this would be exactly what he wanted, but now somehow his sentiment has made it so he wants to stop just because Lavellan hadn’t gazed adoringly at him first? 

 

The fervent kisses and clumsy removal of clothing continued, as did Dorian's unfortunate thoughts. 

 

There had been no pre-kiss banter, either. He had simply gotten a note telling him to meet him in his quarters as the inquisitor hurried past, the Tevinter only catching sight of the quickly departing backside of his partner because of how suddenly it had happened. Finally, Dorian groaned internally and grabbed one of Remi’s clumsy hands off of his now very ragged but still not quite taken off clothes. “Rem,” he started to say, but the elf didn’t seem to notice and continued his uncharacteristic behavior. Dorian cursed that this elf had somehow become important enough to him that this response somehow made a pit of worry pool in his gut. He tried again. “Amatus, not that I’m not  _ loving _ this,” Another kiss. Shit. Stay on task. “But I can’t help but wonder why the sudden change of heart.”

 

Remi’s hands froze, his hair still covering his face where he was looking at the buckle that had bought Dorian so much time. His chest was heaving, still breathing heavily even after his advances stilled. The pit in his stomach, growing larger by the second, helped beat back the excitement one gets from kissing as if with a very sharp stick. 

Maybe it’ll all be alright. Maybe he could just tilt his chin up. They’ll gaze into each other's eyes, Dorian’s odd worry will be proven to be illogical, and they’ll go right back to the steamy bits that he’s been waiting so long for. Decision made, Dorian gently grasped Remi’s face and guided it to be facing towards him. 

 

Fuck. 

 

Remi had been crying. 

 

He’d been crying incredibly recently too. It must have been for a long time, for his eyes to have swelled to such a degree. Dorian realized once again how out of his element he truly was in this moment. A selfish part of himself regretted that he had dared look at all. After all, Remi had wanted this,  _ Dorian  _ had wanted this. Why couldn’t he pretend that he just hadn’t noticed? 

 

Dorian, never one to remain speechless for long, grasped desperately for any words that had an ounce of wit to them to fill the silence, “I surely couldn’t be that out of practice now, could I?” He chuckled half-heartedly, anxiety worming its way to the surface as the elf held his gaze. There was no point now to hide his face when his puffy eyes had already discovered. 

 

Remi suddenly took a shuddering breath and cracked a weary and a so  _ obviously _ fake smile. The boy could mask his emotions as well as Sera could use magic— that is, not at all, with no real desire to do so. This was made abundantly clear within the first few minutes they had spent together in the future that must never come to pass, with him almost pulling his own hair out in anxiety and weeping as his friends slowly died for him. “I’ve never been very good at hiding anything for long, have I?” He asked. 

 

“Not particularly, no,” Dorian responded.  

 

Suddenly Remi grasped Dorian's shoulders and met his eyes with a desperate expression, “What if we just left? Josie’s a better diplomat, Cullen is a better fighter, and Leliana is better at the Game than I could ever be! We could just  _ leave _ and I can close rifts when they show up— and no one needs  _ me personally _ and I’ve never been good enough at leadership and—“ Remi’s hands had moved away from Dorian and slithered into his own hair, clenched tightly and  _ yanking, pulling _ so insistently in a way that must have been painful. He had started hyperventilating, breath coming in gasps that choked away at his speech until he could do little more than breathe. 

 

Dorian reached up and gathered the panicked elf’s hands in his own, gently untangling them from his abused scalp. “Amatus… love…” he pressed a kiss to the crown of Remi’s head then gathered him into his arms, scooting back until his back rested on the headboard of the bed and Remi lay along his side. Remi buried his face into Dorian’s chest and started to weep. 

 

Dorian’s muscles were tense with unease. He had never really done this before, and desperately hoped that the inquisitor wouldn’t notice his sorry state. He immediately felt guilt coil in his gut. There he was, thinking about himself again. Time passed. Eventually, his muscles relaxed and his hand started petting the hair of his… his friend? His partner? His lover? His thoughts continued to swirl in his head. At some point, Remi had stopped crying and just allowed himself to be held. The quiet continued for so long that he nearly jumped when the inquisitor started speaking, his voice deceptively calm. 

 

“I killed my clan today.”

 

_ What the fuck.  _

 

“Well, two days ago, but I had only found out today.” Remi had started tracing meaningless shapes across his stomach, either detached from emotion or so worn out from the abundance of it that he had none left to show. “I found out through Josephine. She barely could look at me when she told me. I couldn’t even hear the whole report, the ringing in my ears turned deafening. After all, the Duke was closer to Lavellan then I was, why not trust him? What if Cullen’s men didn’t reach them in time..? Leliana cornered me in the hallway, after.” His hand now held his shirt in an iron grip, the twirling shapes stilled and rage shook through his small frame. He laughed bitterly. “She thought something was fishy. She was right. The Duke killed them. He slaughtered them. I didn’t let Leliana handle it and I let a man slaughter my family. My niece, my father, my mentor... they’re all  _ dead _ because I  _ assumed _ . I didn’t  _ think _ and now— and now… now I’m supposed to just move past it? I’m supposed to continue to lead when I couldn’t even protect  _ thirty-eight people?  _

 

His hands were shaking again. Dorian covered them with his own, holding them like they were precious, finally understanding. “You wanted to forget, even for just a few moments,” Dorian voiced his thoughts. 

 

Remi head jerked in a stiff nod. His hands were still clenched into fists even with Dorian’s calloused fingers wrapped around them. 

 

Dorian’s mind raced, trying to come up with the right words to say. Saying ‘ _ if we leave, even more people will die _ ,’ while true, probably wasn’t exactly what Remi wished to hear. Perhaps… perhaps he could let Remi get there on his own. Perhaps he could allow him to forget for a little while. A few minutes, freely given to him, where nothing else but them mattered. Mind made up, Dorian spoke. 

 

“There are plenty of abandoned houses in the Hitherlands that we could reside in. If my memory serves correctly, there’s one right by a lake where we could go and live off of fish and elfroot.”

 

Remi shifted and rested his head in his hand to look at him, propping himself up on his elbow. “Wasn’t that where we found Blackwall?” He asked, playing along to the innocent fantasy. A small, sad smile on his face. 

 

Dorian laughed, but there was no humor, no mirth in it. This conversation was a ruse, but it was a pleasant one. “It was. But we could adopt goats and sleep in straw beds. My hair could be a disaster every day and you’d love it anyway because I’m  _ me _ , obviously. Perhaps we’ll get married! There’ll be no magisters breathing down my neck to try and convince me that you somehow  _ aren’t _ the most wonderful man in the world, why not? Remi and Dorian Lavellan, setting down with our goat named Miriam and our lumpy straw bed that we love to pieces.” 

 

Remi’s face fell. “I don’t deserve that name.”

 

“Don’t you?” Dorian asked with false innocence. 

 

Remi sat up fully now, crossing his arms over his chest. “No,” he said firmly, his expression hard, “I really don’t.”

 

Dorian matched his stance and expression, “Inquisitor Remisious Lavellan.” 

 

“Stop it.”

 

“No! Because whether you feel like you deserve it or not, it’s who you are.” 

 

“You’re wrong! I can’t be who the people need me to be.”

 

“ _Amatus!_ Listen to me! You have the amount of power that my father would kill for. Do you know what he would do with it if he got it?” Dorian pressed. 

 

Remi played along and asked, “Fine. What would he do?” 

 

“He would use it to kill all those who stood in his way until he was the only one left standing, crushing those below him without a care of their well-being.”

 

“I am not your father, Dorian,” Remi started, but Dorian cut him off. 

 

“Yes! Exactly! You are not my father. Nor are you anything like him. When you see a tear-stained note nailed to a signpost saying that someone lost their Druffalo, you go out and find it, fighting demons and closing rifts in the process. My father in your position would have eaten the druffalo and demanded compensation for allowing the beast to escape in the first place. What happened to your clan was terrible and you have my deepest sympathies, but you must understand that it is the fault of the Duke and not your own!”

 

“If I hadn’t trusted—“

 

“If you hadn’t trusted me we all would have died in a broken future! There will always people that we cannot trust, and there will always be people that you must trust. You may have placed your trust in the wrong man, but don’t let the cruelty of people like the Duke and my father tear down your own trust and kindness!” 

 

Remi turned away, his hands falling to his sides. “I hate that you’re right.”

 

Dorian reached up to cup his face, “you just wanted the goat named Miriam,” he said, not knowing what else to say. 

 

Remi laughed and faced him again, a sad smile lighting up his face. He placed his hand over the one Dorian had on his face and leaned into the touch. He sat like that for awhile and did their unspoken ritual of showing affection; He gazed into Dorian’s eyes. Remi’s own we’re red and swollen and Dorian suspected that the swelling might not go down for a long time while the inquisitor grieved. 

 

“Thank you, _ma vhenan,_ for everything.”

 

“I’m here for you, _Amatus.”_

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed my garbage! kudos/comments are deeply appreciated even if its something like "the mothman consumes all" or "uhdsihfhhhhhmmmmmmmdsbvufh beef" or "this good :')"
> 
> feel free to use those if u are like me and Bad With Words and Shy Ask Heck or simply enjoy the power of "uhdsihfhhhhhmmmmmmmdsbvufh beef"


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